


there is no difference between a wish and a curse

by masamune11



Series: Leeayre's PersonaVerse AU [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Also of course there would be Major Character's Death, Alternate Universe - Persona, Angry!Jason, Gen, Insecure!Jason, Leeayre's PersonaVerse, Mild Gore, Protect Jason at All Cost, Swearing, Torture, Underage Driving, We're talking about boy wonder who dies and lives again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-23 11:12:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10718244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masamune11/pseuds/masamune11
Summary: -except theintentionbehind it.Jason Todd was an ordinary street kid trying to live his life in Gotham--keyword beingtrying. In a world wheremagic is real(as real as supernatural beings likePersonasovertaking living bodies, sometimes screwing so many lives everywhere in the world, not the poltergeist-in-the-air crap) and where Jason was just another normal street kid, he was just stupid enough to steal from theBatman.Well. In his defense, he would saya kid gotta eat. Thus, when theBatmanhimself offered to provide for shelter and protection, how can Jason refuse?And if, in some way, he got to work with the embodiment of children's wishes to protect themselves from harm, that would be a sweet bonus--because he was one among those children too, and nothing could deter Jason Todd from taking the chance to change what he can.(or alternatively, that fic of a fic based onLeeayre's PersonaVerse AU, elaborating Jason Todd's origin as Red Hood.)





	1. i wish for the happiness of every child in the world

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Leeayre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leeayre/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Where There's a Wish](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6705706) by [Leeayre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leeayre/pseuds/Leeayre). 
  * Inspired by [Persona](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6702973) by [Leeayre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leeayre/pseuds/Leeayre). 
  * Inspired by [Possessed by Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10739811) by [Leeayre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leeayre/pseuds/Leeayre). 



> I distinctly remembered that the first time I fell into DC fandom, in particular, was some time in 2013, when I got myself time to watch **Batman: Under the Red Hood**. I cannot help but empathize with Jason's plight (though and his... ahem, 'tantrum' was quite overkill); so relatable was his anger to me that I, eventually, sought for more stories about this angry bird. My interest in Jason leads to Dick, then leads to Damian and Tim, and finally, the whole batfam altogether--even the Kanes. I first touched base with N52, but soon learned that comic books tend to be timey-wimey about their continuation. 
> 
> Eventually, I learned that there _are_ stories before 52 that ensnares my heart so easily. *glances at No Man's Land, the whole issues of Red Robin series, and Hush*
> 
> Four years since then and, finally, here I am, writing about _something_ in this fandom--about Jason, in particular. And, surprisingly, it's not a crossover nor a fusion, despite what my work history claims *laughs*
> 
> This story would not be here without Leeayre's support. Thank you for your kindness to dabble in your envisioned concept. I admit I did ask permission to drabble but... well, as things turned out, this will not be a drabble at all. *laughs*
> 
> Beforehand, I suggest that you read more on [Leeayre's PersonaVerse fic](http://archiveofourown.org/series/455257) to gain a better understanding on how Persona in this fic works. The basic premise is something along this line: Personas are spirit/entity/ghost/supernatural being/what-have-you born from wishes of humans and (usually) possess people so that they can carry on their directive.
> 
> I suppose that's it? If you catch some grammar mistakes, typos, etc. you are welcome to notify me! I've rechecked the work to the best of my ability, but you know, a normal human like me is not without fault.
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy!
> 
>  **Additional Note:** if you are viewing this on your computer, you may notice that there are some words embedded with URLs. These URLs usually refers to suitable melodies that should go with the ambiance of each section. I have compiled the listing of those URLs in the 'End Notes' section, for your perusal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish to extend my heartfelt thanks to Leeayre for spending his/her time and effort to proofread, edit, and offer writing tips on this particular chapter. It is certainly an honor and a good opportunity to engage about writing (in english). 
> 
> God knows I still have so many things to improve--it does not stop me from writing some more though ahahaha.

**[i wish]**

[His name was Jason Todd](https://youtu.be/fmS_MxfJiCw?t=10)[ [1]](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10718244/chapters/23746749#Explanation-1) and he was, by no means, an ordinary boy living in the slums of Gotham. If one decided to stereotype his upbringing, then it was expected for him to make a living from stealing, drug dealing, or other possible shady dealings in Gotham.

The sad truth was… that it was the only life he knew.

His father, Willis Todd, was not the caring dad any child would wish to have. He was a thug in service to the Falcone—a powerful mafia family with connections to the governing powers in Gotham; the head of the family was rumoured to be an otherworldly entity, and Jason was still just a stupid kid that believed such _incorrigible rumour_ (he knew better now)—and took pleasure in beating his wife and son when fate screwed with him. Between his mother and himself, Jason would often step forward and take the beating first. One night, in a heist gone wrong, the man was captured and sent to prison for a murder he insisted he never committed. His only comment… was that he heard twisted laughter ringing in his head through the moment of the murder.

His mother, Catherine Todd, would have been a wonderful mother had she chosen the right man to marry. She was born as a middle-class citizen, some splotches tarnishing her record ever since Willis roped her into a one-night stand in the back alley. Had it been really just that, she could have made a better choice. But at the end of everything, she still chose him—the bad influence that invited misfortune into her own life, deviating her from the success she could have grasped.

When his father left their lives for good, his death warrant practically signed from the moment he entered prison, Jason thought that they could turn over a new page—start life anew and all that jazz. But his mother could not seem to hold herself together, the years of misfortune practically turning her to drugs. Young Jason told himself over and over that it would eventually get better—that Catherine would snap out of it and be the responsible adult she should be, and let go of his father's shadow.

(He could never understand how his mother held any love for the man who beat them both).

But as time went by, Jason eventually learned that nothing would ever get better if he did not clean up everything by himself. So he did what he had to do: he scrammed the dealers who got in contact with his mother, did shady things that his father would have been proud of (quick clarification: Jason certainly _was not proud_ ), and stole a pair of seemingly-expensive tires off the _batmobile_ in order to make some bucks—

—except he couldn’t sell them off because they instantly turned into wispy black smoke moments after he got them off. To make matters worse, the freaking _Batman_ just had to jump down the ledge and cast a begrudging look at him.

Was he terrified? Yes. See exhibit one: him, on his butt, scared out of his wits.

In all honesty, who wouldn’t be terrified of Batman?

(Looking back, Jason should have not been as terrified as he was. Sure, he was trying to steal the tires of the _batmobile_ , but if he were just an ordinary person with no compatibility to Gotham’s Personas, he would not have been able to open the bolts, let alone unhook the tires in the first place. The _batmobile_ was just another paraphernalia of Batman’s, much like the _batarangs_ he owned: a part of the Persona, built to protect its vessel.

The fact that Jason could tamper with the _batmobile_ at all was a sign of his compatibility to harbor Persona.

That, and the fact that Batman was just assessing him, trying to contain the situation without scaring a kid off in the middle of the night. If he had been treating Jason like some other criminal, Jason wouldn't have been conscious enough to see the light of dawn.)

Jason raised his hand in a gesture of surrender, the thieving tools in his hands clinking on the floor. “I swear I did not mean to steal from you.”

Jason imagined that the feared Batman actually gave him _a look_. Better to think of it that way than thinking of the (bloody) alternative.

“Shouldn’t you be at home, kid?” he growled, waving his hand in the direction of his batmobile. The missing tires resolidified right where they were supposed to be.

He remembered Catherine at home, likely depressed and drunk to unconsciousness, with no proper food because Jason didn’t cut it. His gut clenched. “I can’t go back until I got something for home.”

The Batman actually hummed and opened the door of his _batmobile_. He cast a knowing glance at him—perhaps, one that bordered on pity too—and then climbed inside. Before the door closed, Gotham’s urban legend procured something from the cabin and tossed a brown envelope to him. Admirably, Jason was proud that he did not fumble his catch.

Before the teen could make a decent comment (pretty sure he would squeak if he forced his vocal cords at that time), Batman was closing the car door and dropping advice, “Find something better to do than stealing car tires, kid.”

Then, the _batmobile_ drove out of the stinky alley—just like that.

When Jason recovered enough from the shock, he made a mad dash back to his home complex and laughed hysterically. Of all things holy, he tried to steal from _Batman_ , _got away with it_ , and gained compensation. He was not sure what the Batman gave him, though he could guess that, by the weight and ply of papers, it might be money inside. He was proven true once more and was wise enough to keep his mouth shut; he might be running on adrenaline at that moment, but he did not want any unwanted attention from resident thugs.

Quietly, the teen quickly made his way into his flat. Jason remembered grinning his ears off, so deep in elation that he overlooked the slumped form of his mother just over her favorite couch.

So happy he was that Jason forgot the one fact of his life so far: Gotham is cruel and unrepentant, torturing even her most devoted citizen in her web of suffering.

Jason hesitantly stepped inside, the grin on his face wiped and replaced by an unnerving frown. The used syringes scattered on the ground made his heart constrict and propelled him to move quickly— _Jason, fucking do your job well_ —

—he felt no pulse.

His world _tilted_.

* * *

**[for]**

The funeral of Catherine Todd was a private affair, only attended by himself, a social worker assigned to take care of him, the priest, and cemetery management staff. The fact that his mother’s relatives never showed up at all did not faze Jason; he had guessed since long ago that they were no longer on speaking terms. Perhaps it was because of Willis, or maybe it was something else—Jason would never know now.

He watched as Catherine’s casket descended, the people then shoveling the dirt again and again until it disappeared from view. The priest’s words about how his mother was now in a better place ( _bullshit_ ) sounded so far away, just like how blurry the rest of the day felt for him. He remembered going back to his flat and crashing on the couch (where she died). He remembered passing out there, [all worn down and empty and just… tired](https://youtu.be/pCXRC5lGT98?t=0)[[2]](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10718244/chapters/23746749#Explanation-2).

He remembered waking up with anger in his bosom, remembered going through the weeks in constant frustration, remembered doing so many stupid things out of _rage_ (at Gotham, at her _specters_ lurking in the dark)—

—remembered the _Batman_ standing in his way, remembered the Dark Knight knocking him down until he was unconscious.

When he came to, he found himself tied up on a standard chair, somewhere on top of a building. He could make out the outline of [Wayne Tower and Robbins Tower…. Somewhere around Von Grunwald](http://batmangothamcity.net/no-mans-land/post-quake-gotham-3/)[[3]](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10718244/chapters/23746749#Explanation-3) then? His body ached all over, his back was stiff, and his legs were sore. Jason groaned, part of him ignoring the fact that Batman was standing several feet away from him, tense and brooding and… _silent_.

[Jason hated the silence](https://open.spotify.com/track/3YnNCFHWyU9y91TaJyXSpQ)[ [4]](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10718244/chapters/23746749#Explanation-4). It reminded him of the night his mother died.

“What do you want with me?” he glared as he shoved down the fear within him with more doses of anger. Jason could work with anger; it always served him as a crutch, numbing his disappointments when his mother fell back to her routine or reminding him what he ought to protect when his father was too drunk to care. It made him steady.

(It prevented him from breaking down altogether, but Jason would never admit this.)

“You’re angry,” the shadow said as he moved to close the gap, all glares and gloom, but Jason had survived in the street for so long that he’d learned to steel up—to remain unflinching by clutching onto that rage. “But you don’t have a purpose. It makes you dangerous. _It will make you my enemy_.”

Batman could have left the last sentence unsaid and Jason would still have gotten the gist: don’t cross him. He might have been angry at that moment, but he could still read between the lines: _he was not_ there _yet_.

(Did he ever want to be on the other side, though? All the things that he did, for himself and for his mother, were for survival. But did it mean that he had been standing against him?)

“Well, gee, I don’t see you offering any good advice,” Jason mocked, all jagged and hard edges, but it sounded too forced on his own lips—too tired. He ended up hating the words, the lack of control.

He thought Batman would move or talk back, seeing his lips instantly twisted into a frown. But before the Persona could start again, he stopped and… looked at him, as if someone just dumped the ‘I’M HERE’ cap on top of his head or some other stupid things on Jason’s face that caught his interest. The man’s features softened, and Jason would always remember the words Batman said afterward: “That would be Robin’s job.”

Before he could retort, his world tilted once more and darkness blinded him, leaving children’s laughter in its wake.

* * *

**[the happiness]**

Looking back, never had Jason imagined that one single decision he made in that narrow alley rank with filth would lead him into this kind of life. Considering his upbringing and attitude, not to mention the circumstances surrounding his pre-teenage life, it was a miracle that he’d ended up where he was now: perched on top of the highest gargoyle statue of Wayne Tower, blue eyes overlooking his ever-so merciless hometown, and in a (half-formed) suit which any child would _kill_ for.

There was laughter in his mind at the emphasis on that one word, a wisp of amusement brushing playfully under his skin as the will within him said, “ _And you say_ I’m _the dramatic one_.”

Months ago, he would have cringed at that intrusive (but not) thought and the playful (but overbearing) gesture that followed. But Jason Todd had had enough time to get familiar with the voice of this wish—this _Persona_ —to know that _Robin_ was never—could never—be a threat to him. Now… that comment only made his lips twist in glee.

“Hey,” Jason started, Robin’s mirth affecting his mood because _the little shit had always been infectious that way_ , “when it’s true, you have to make it _dramatic_. Besides, kids always want to be a hero who beats the bad guys. Robin does that, so kids adore you. As the embodiment of children’s wishes given form, I suppose you should know that firsthand.”

Robin’s spirit did not simmer down, the Persona humming acknowledgment as it gently pressed down on the soles of his feet ( _the green boots that sent criminals sprawling on the pavement on a nightly basis_ ) and the spot just behind his knees. A tickle tactic aimed right at Jason’s weak spot and he instantly let out a surprised yelp.

“ _I would know of that, of course_ ,” Robin smugly said as he continued to press down on him—a familiar thing, so very fond yet cheeky at the same time—and adorned Jason in the equipment he needed for tonight’s flight. And in every spot he covered, the Persona manipulatively let the tickling sensation linger—surely an attempt to counter the teen’s last laugh with his own gasp for mercy. “ _You were one of those children too._ ”

And Jason could not deny that declaration any more than he could stop the sun from shining, could he? Because, even when he had already discarded such ridiculous notions (because he had stopped being a child a long time ago, his fairy tale discarded just at the corner of crime alley), Jason wished to be a hero too, once upon a time, if only to protect what was left of his family. And he wished it the hardest when Willis was finally put into prison for one crime too many, leaving Jason to care for Catherine alone.

When the little Persona finally finished covering most of his body with what was needed—the usual red body armour, doubly protected with Kevlar-like material, heavy green boots that promised hurt, and the bright yellow cape that Jason had doubted its practical usefulness since forever—Jason fell back to the floor, gasping for breath if only to straighten himself. Robin could be unforgiving in exacting his revenge, but it never stopped Jason from poking the Persona several times.

“My, aren’t you being an unforgiving hassle tonight,” Jason whistled, only realizing that he was on his back when he opened his eyes to look at the smog-filled dark sky. He was still regaining his breath from the amount of laughter he had to endure from Robin’s punishment.

“ _Me, unforgiving? Never._ ” But the lilt in the little Persona's voice definitely betrayed its meaning. Jason laughed once more, this time a little freer, as he let the Persona slowly finalize his transformation. The more Robin’s presence blended with his awareness, the clearer were the pleas for help— _the wishes_ —help ringing in Jason’s ears.

Months ago, those pleas might have included _his own voice_.

(He remembered the days when he turned his face away when he heard a person screaming from the back of an alley. Sometimes, the screaming would stop altogether right after the sound of a bullet. Some other times, the screaming would crescendo, until it ended with the sounds of clashes and broken things. Yet other times, it would stop as soon as the shadow—the _Batman_ —passed and turned things around.

Once, the _Batman_ came just too late.

He was just a dumb kid back then, who would only protect himself and his associates, but never strangers.

But then came _Robin_ , and his perspective changed—for the better.)

Jason opened his eyes to meet with the dark sky again and clenched his jaw. What jolly he’d found had already turned into cold anger and impatience to _move_ —to launch and bring down those who hurt people. “What are you waiting for, Robin?”

For a moment, Jason seemed to notice the subtle change in Robin’s mood. But as soon as the thought surfaced, the Persona continued working, shading his direct vision behind the lenses of his suit, the red domino mask covering his eyes that left a tingling sensation all over. When the teen chuckled, “ _So impatient_ ” under his breath and did a back extension roll, it was definitely not Jason’s idea, because Jason would never want the good-for-nothing cape to obstruct his vision when he did gymnastic bullshit like this.

“…I shouldn’t have done that,” Robin commented as he flipped the cape to its proper place and Jason couldn’t help but snort at that quiet (but embarrassing, surely) comment.

“ _You definitely shouldn’t have,_ ” Jason quipped, all playful and driven. They heard another ring of pleas, stealing what shadowy grin Jason had as his impatience rose, “ _We should move._ ”

Robin let out a sigh that would haunt the teen later, in the far future. But now, Jason only sat tight at the back of his mind as the Persona shot his grappling hook and watched as they fell—

—[and then soared](https://youtu.be/SvvZ8-9qtEA)[[5]](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10718244/chapters/23746749#Explanation-5).

“Honestly, Jay, your impatience is worse than Dick’s.”

“ _And I_ ,” he retorted, channeling Alfred’s deadpan smugness because it always ticked the Persona off, “ _shall wisely take that as a compliment_.”

* * *

**[of every child]**

As he soared through the night, a thought returned to Jason once more: he knew that he was different from Dick.

Even as he sat back at the corner of his mind, Jason could still feel the wind on his hair, the strain Robin put on his muscles as he did aerial flips, and the stubborn shock on his soles as he landed on the ground after a series of complex acrobatic moves. Every move that Robin made lacked a defining grace Jason remembered Robin had obtained with Dick.

But in its place, Jason also noticed that Robin punched and kicked harder now than when the Persona was with the teen’s predecessor. If Dick needed to exploit the momentum he gained from his gymnastic moves to deliver damage, Jason could do it without the aerial tricks while retaining the same power.

Part of him was glad that he was _different_.

The other part of him, the one that tried to live up to his predecessor, itched, because _wouldn’t their enemies notice the change_?

(“ _Would it matter at all, Jay?_ ” Robin chided once when that question popped out.)

The abrupt yank on Robin’s yellow cape jogged him back from his pondering, and Jason eventually realized that they were surrounded by deranged people who had been trying to “kill the hope.” They were civilians, mostly white-collar workers judging from their work attire, who were looking at Robin with deranged expressions and twisted smiles.

Robin quickly made a series of back flips to get away from the crowd and landed neatly on the farthest abandoned car. The zombified mob did not immediately reach him, but they were closing in fast.

“ _I thought you had this handled!_ ” Jason shrieked, perhaps half in a panic because he knew the limits of his own body; Robin could only use one more nifty move to get away if they were about to be surrounded. Any more than that, Jason knew that they were going to collapse from the strain.

“Oh relax, Jay,” Robin offhandedly replied, as if the whole situation would be resolved with a finger snap. Robin’s playful grin certainly did nothing to soothe his worry. “ _We_ got this.”

To his exasperation, the little shit did snap his fingers, as if to evoke some set-up psychic bomb. When their surroundings quickly turned gray, the shadows around them rising up and obscuring any light from the sky, Jason suddenly realized what the Persona had done. “ _…You’re asking Batman to come and save us from this danger?_ ”

“Shh,” was all Jason got. The shadows all around them quietly converged to a single spot and then solidified into human shape. The person quickly fell forward towards the mob, a line of bluish stripes glinting in the moonlight as the man—as _Nightwing_ —landed on the ground and proceeded to _dance around and hit everyone within his reach_. As the Persona pranced around, Jason noticed the greenish light latching onto the edge of his escrimas, drawing out whatever evil possessed these unsuspecting citizens.

The show ended with Nightwing retracting his escrima sticks into non-existence and the victims dropping to the ground.

Robin made his way to where the other Persona stood and grinned, “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Nightwing.”

Said Persona did not smile back (it was quite a feat, really, to look impassive despite Robin’s infectious happiness; Jason certainly had not gained that one skill yet), although there was an almost smirk there. For a Wish born to uphold Batman's mission in different, lighter ways, Nightwing surely acted like the opposite.

“It’s cool,” the Persona said, his tone a bit more jovial than what Jason was used to. It kind of reminded him of Dick… but surely, this was Nightwing, not Dick, right? Jason hummed internally, snapping out of his reverie when he caught the Persona staring straight at them—or rather, at _Jason_ , he thought. It made staying at the back of his own damn mind uncomfortable; something about Nightwing—and Dick Grayson too—sent him all the wrong messages. Perhaps it was his (denied) internalized inferiority complex towards the man. Perhaps it was that calculative, cold stare, despite his previous joviality.

Perhaps it was the fleeting, but not unreasonable, doubt that Robin preferred his predecessor to Jason.

Robin shifted within the landscape of his mind, his weight pressing softly all over Jason’s skin as if to reassure him that, in any other possible event, Robin would always choose him. Jason grunted internally; if he was moved with how the Persona treated him, he definitely kept his feelings under wraps (and failed anyway, because he was never one to hide his feelings, preferring to wear his heart on his sleeve; Robin used to simply pick up on his emotions and _laugh_ ).

After ensuring that his vessel gained the reassurance he needed, Robin said, “Oh? I’m curious about it. Won’t you tell us?”

The case Nightwing was working on must have been so bad that the Persona tensed visibly, his lips forming a tight frown. He procured something from his utility belt—a simpler belt compared to Robin’s with fewer pouches—and handed the item over. It was a small slip of paper, the poor kind used to print grocery receipts, which should have been harmless were it not for the greenish glow and the scribbled-in-blood writing on it.

Jason felt his lips turning to a tight frown but did not understand what it meant—what _Robin_ meant. “ _Robin, what is it?_ ”

“I’m not sure myself,” Robin muttered, earning a reprimanding stare from his senior Persona. The little one only gave him a not-you look and hastily asked, “Where did you find this?”

“Batman found it,” Nightwing simply replied, “right after the two of you busted Falcone’s operation on the west side. He picked up on it during the quick run-in and handed it to me for further investigation.”

There was nothing wrong with how Nightwing declared his side of the story, and yet Jason couldn’t help the spark of anger quietly building at the base of his gut. It made no sense; Batman just did what needed to be done by trusting his favored assistant with an investigation of his own.

[_Favored_](https://youtu.be/wAVFndg1_6c?t=41)[ [6]](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10718244/chapters/23746749#Explanation-6).

Jason never wanted to go down that line of thought, and yet his thoughts kept on running that direction anyway—that no matter how hard he fought, he would not be able to fill the first’s boots.

He could vaguely make out Robin muttering, “The curse is back?” and note the grim lines decorating Dick’s face. But Jason was in too deep—too engrossed in his own anger ( _jealousy_ ) that he just wanted to mash some criminal’s face, and he wanted to do it himself, _on his own terms_ —

Robin frowned, perhaps noticing something was wrong, and tilted his face, “…Jay?”

—he wanted his body back.

He didn’t mean to just yank Robin into the backseat, forcefully maintaining the Persona’s abilities on the surface. Thus, when those blue eyes opened once again behind that red domino mask, they weren’t Robin’s.

They were Jason’s.

Judging by Nightwing’s reaction, alert and ready to subdue, the Persona might have noticed the change. “Jason? Is that you?”

Nightwing never got his answers; Jason was already shooting his hastily summoned grappling hook and then flying away—freaking out and so very _confused_.

* * *

**[in the world]**

“ _This is some sort of payback, isn’t it? For that time when I first took you over?_ ” Robin complained from the back of his mind as Jason swung to reach the top of Von Grunwald Tower. The teen gracefully landed on the roof, still disconnected from what was happening. Jason was in complete control of his own body… yet still retained the full capacity of Robin’s skillset (he could feel it under his skin, really). The teen looked at his gloved hands and clenched them as if he was unsure how this was happening—

“ _Jay_?” came the worried inquiry of the little Persona, “ _Are you alright_?”

Jason blinked, the reality surrounding their problem quickly taking hold on him. “Shit, what just—” but he stopped because he was unsure himself what to make of this. This—the vessel forcefully taking control back from the Persona, but retaining his skills—had never happened.

And the unknown made everybody fearful, did it not?

Jason groaned, knowing full well that his mind was already in panic mode, “I have no fucking idea what just happened.”

He was expecting Robin to freak out too, but the Persona only snorted… as though this situation was to be expected… as if Robin had gone through this kind of situation before.

“ _You happened, that’s what_ ,” Robin smugly answered. Jason mentally emulated his are-you-kidding-me glare, to which Robin cracked up. Only when his vessel let out a grumbling noise did the Persona stop. Jason could feel the fondness emanating from the back of his mind—Robin’s fondness.

“ _There are so many children in Gotham that wish me to exist, Jay, and even more to pick from so that I can keep the show going. Yet of all the children out there,_[ _have you ever asked yourself why I chose you?_](https://youtu.be/-FkiS1RN5zE?t=10)[ [7]](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10718244/chapters/23746749#Explanation-7)”

He never dared to ask because he feared the answer: that Robin could have chosen another faceless child and gone on with his— _Batman_ ’s—crusade; that he was just Richard Grayson’s replacement as the latter graduated to his own gig, with a new Persona to boot.

That he was another _just_.

That thought alone was enough for Jason to loosen his hold, be it mental or physical, and it was enough of a crack for Robin to gently take over. This time, the Persona gently pressed on his front and back, on his shoulder pads, on his arms—on wherever Robin took hold of the teen. He kept going, forcing the teen to lie down on the rooftop and gaze at the starlit sky.

A hug ( _a crutch_ ).

“I _chose you because you fought back and survived, Jay. You don’t break, even when Gotham wished you to, you still kept_ me.”

A pause, a breath, a shudder—another trail of thoughts coming from him that was surely off-putting to the Persona. Robin held him tighter.

“ _That sheer determination? That stubbornness? Jay, there is no person like you… so willful that you can push_ me _out and_ get away with it,” a clench on his hand, a comforting gesture.

And Jason… Jason just wanted to believe those words, even if he was not ready to accept (that he was _not_ another _just_ ).

“I chose you because you’re special, Jay,” Robin said, right from his lips, in a wistful tone that betrayed his usual happy countenance. He had fully assumed control of his vessel’s body and Jason… wanted to rest from battling his own shadows.

“And eventually, you will accept that as true.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Expression, by Helen Jane long  
> [2] The Promise, by Michael Nyman  
> [3] Gotham City Skyline post No Man's Land, hosted by batmangothamcity.net  
> [4] City Life, by Gavin Luke (this would link you to Spotify, and I cannot find any other equivalence to this, sorry :( )  
> [5] Soaring Mind, by Anthony Greninger  
> [6] Mirabilis, Roberto Cacciapaglia  
> [7] Beginners Theme Suite, by Brian Reitzell, Dave Palmer, and Roger Neill


	2. and i curse those who fail to protect their innocence and their happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You cannot deny me this right, _Bruce_. You _will_ not.” Jason carried on, vehemence lacing his every word. He could feel that Robin did not approve his words if the scathing look directed at him an indication, but Jason couldn't care less. He needed to do this, needed for Bruce to see that Jason required _closure_.
> 
> For a moment, Bruce looked as if he wanted to yield. Then his gaze landed on Nightwing, standing just at the edge of the room and looking too tense for a proper Wish, before it went back to Jason again. Something changed then, Jason thought, because he could no longer see the doubt in his guardian’s eyes, the remains of hurt and steel solidifying into resolution—a decision.
> 
> “If it risks you to the Curse, Jason?” Bruce’s voice was steel, his eyes filled with unwavering stubbornness as they slowly disappeared behind Batman’s cowl, “I _will_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... may have taken too many liberties on this one.
> 
> Excuse me while I recover from my heartbreak. Writing this chapter makes my heart ache.
> 
> (This chapter is unbeta'ed at the moment.)

**[and i]**

For as long as Jason remembered, there were two things that always made his Persona quiet in a drop of a hat: Batman’s orders and the _Curse_. While Jason understood Robin's propensity to obey Batman's calls, he never understood why the _Curse_ spook him so fervently. Hell, he did not even know what the _Curse_ was.

So he asked off-handedly, one night during patrol night, just when they were about to swing to [R.H. Kane building](http://batmangothamcity.net/no-mans-land/post-quake-gotham-3/).

Robin did not immediately answer, prioritizing to land safely first than to answer such out-of-the-blue question. Even when they had safely landed on the roof, Robin intentionally dragged the silence on, until he gave in with a sigh. "The _Curse..._ it is a malevolent Persona born of negative thoughts. It's as ancient as humankind, Jay, and it will remain for as long as people _breathe._ "

There was something tentative in the way Robin spoke of it, as if Robin had watched the horrors inflicted by that entity and could not help but be changed in consequence.

" _You make it sound close_ ," he tested the water, " _like it is personal, Robin._ "

The Persona flinched, and Jason wondered whether he would tell more. Perhaps Robin would have, his mouth opening and closing until it finally settled into a firm line. Another moment passed amidst Jason's wait, until his Persona finally decided to stand his ground on this topic, "It's a long story, one best told by Batman. Or Oracle."

So much for a successful attempt. _"That’s it? Not even a watered-down version?"_ Jason mused, _"the longer you left me hanging, the longer I would think of it as a horror movie fad.”_

Robin let out a mirthless laugh, one that Jason knew as an admonishment towards his attitude. Not that it ever stopped Jason from sticking his nose where it did not belong. Joke's on his Persona for shutting up in the first place.

"The  _Curse_ has many incarnations, Jay. It doesn't have to be around every time, but history has proven over and over that, when it resurfaced, its rise always coincided with a time when humanity's virtues are at its lowest point. And it will always assume a new name, Jay. Always a different mantel... Always a new Persona."

The were moving towards the Narrows when they heard another child wishing for help. Jason felt Robin move with more fervor, each kick to the ground even heavier. Robin’s frustration bled out all over, making the teen wonder just how affronting the _Curse_ was for the Persona to evoke this kind of violent reaction.

Robin picked up his silence—the _little shit_ was growing better at that—and huffed.

"The recent one called himself _the Joker,_ " Robin continued as he shot his grappling hook and swung. Jason might have imagined the temperature around him dropping by several degrees, as if the name invited calamity. "Batman and I banished him not so long ago, before Dick and I went our separate ways."

Banishment. Jason was familiar with the term, though he was never required to carry the procedure himself. There had been no need, so far. When a Persona was too malevolent to reason with, Batman would likely try to seal the Persona in an object contradictory to its nature. For example, if Robin were to be banished, the object that would likely contain him must represent his antithesis—the symbol of shattered dreams and broken hopes—such as a broken toy, a despairing child's diary, or an amalgamation of both. Over time, the vessel which contained that Persona might retain or lose power, depending on the collective perception of humanity towards it; if the symbolism behind the container lost meaning, it was possible for a Persona to break free and, worse of all, become more powerful than before.

Banishment was a long-term solution, preferable than Erasure.

If Batman had to resort to such tactic, then the danger was very real.

" _Huh,"_ a sign of understanding, and then another muse, " _You know, for such a dangerous Persona, I was expecting a flashier name."_

There was a twist on his lips, followed by a chuckle befitting the embodiment of hope—a better mood. Jason counted that subtle change a win.

(Robin was supposed to be pure and untarnished by tragedy or sorrow, not a shade haunted by another brutal aspect of humanity.)

"Couldn't agree with you more, Jay," Robin shook his head in amusement as he took his final swing through the night to perform his duty. “Couldn't agree with you more.”

* * *

**[curse]**

The abandoned warehouse belonging to the Falcone family—the one which Robin and Nightwing were assigned to infiltrate—was surprisingly lax in security. While this might indicate red herring, Robin was quite optimistic in obtaining necessary leads to shed some light on their case.

The case in question being a series of flash riots happening in various areas of Gotham.

What happened to Robin several nights before was just a prelude of more chaos. The only common factor tying them together was the _modus operandi_ : both the instigators and the crowds turned deranged, their faces a contortion of sinister smiles and their skin a shade of cream white. The whole situation had Joker's names all over.

The situation drove everyone up the wall, as the only lead they had was a piece of paper acting much like a container for a banished Persona; a piece of paper with a bloody message:

> "HAHAHAHAHA!!"

The _Curse_ _always_ assumed a new mantle when it came back to terrorize the living, so why did its pattern change now? Batman suspected foul play, even after making sure that the Joker’s container was still safe beneath Arkham Asylum. Until they found how a piece of Joker could resurface, they would be running thorough investigations on Falcone’s operation.

Thorough information gathering led them here.

Some knock-out gasses, several punching, and major heavy kicking later, Robin found himself cruising through a small cabinet file just around the corner, right at the makeshift office space. For a business built on Gotham's misery, Robin was astonished just how _organized_  the Falcone's filing system is (it certainly helped his investigation, so Robin would not complain).

Some folders containing financial information caught his interest—something about service rendered to dig a grave. Falcone’s operation specialized on drugs and human trafficking, so what did he need from _a corpse_ , of all things? Deftly, the Persona browsed through some more folders with ‘irrelevant’ activities, discarding what was irrelevant until his hand fell onto one brown thick binder.

He had a _very_ bad feeling about this.

Robin opened the binder and started reading anyway.

The Persona found himself staring at the first page of the documents. There was a photo of a woman with ginger hair staring back at him with joy. It was a face which the Persona knew all too well, for Jay had his mother’s photo tucked safely in his wallet. Catherine Todd’s lovely eyes stared back at him, as if taunting him to uncover the truth.

“Why would the Falcones have a file on your mother?” Robin wondered, his fingers gingerly tracing the edge of the worn out photo. Judging from the state and the printing quality of the photo, he could deduce that the photo was no older than two years… long before her death.

" _I'm not sure,_ " Jay replied, a touch of wariness and nervousness shadowing his voice. The teen was slowly turning into a bundle of nerves. " _Probably because of Dad. He_ did _run errands for Falcone's group._ "

The Persona really hoped so, because the bad feeling that had been plaguing him since he was browsing through what little evidences they had? It did not abate. Robin hummed in acknowledgment and turned to the next page, mentally jotting down important information as it rose to his attention.

The next page included some of her official medical records, dated as far back as when she was still a sophomore at Gotham Academy. The records were incomplete, only showing her medical condition when she was still studying. Following that were an outdated psychological profile, deployed approximately before her academy graduation, several yearly statements of dependents, some utility bills stamped as overdue, copies of tax filings, and, lastly, a summarized analysis her background.

They had been studying about her life for who knew how long, or so Robin concluded.

The Persona tentatively turned the last page over and found that there was something else: a clear folder containing another pack of papers. He stiffened at the title:

> **_RESEARCH LOGBOOK #1_ **
> 
> **_PROJECT_** **_:_** **_'PINOCCHIO’_**
> 
> **_SUBJECT ID_** **_:_** **_F-HQUI-0049_**
> 
> **_SUBJECT NAME_** **_:_** **_CATHERINE ELIZABETH TODD_**

And Jay, who had been keeping to himself since Robin started browsing, whispered with a touch of bile, “ _What did they do to my mom?_ ”

Robin wisely let that question hang, preferring to look for more information rather than jumping the gun (because he had a vague idea of what _monstrosity_ Falcone was dabbling at), and proceeded taking out the files from the plastic holder. He quickly skimmed through the introduction section, going directly to the research logs and notes.

“December 1, the subject was treated to remove decomposition odor…” The Persona muttered grimly. At least it confirmed that Falcone was experimenting on corpse; no lives involved, only grave _desecration_.

Jay was quiet once more, though Robin could sense the other seething at the revelation. The Persona mentally nudged the teen—a gesture of empathy—and then proceeded to read the next line, “December 14, the subject was treated with compound JKR-5291 and put through conditioning. There was no sign of sentience…”

 _Sentience_? _On a corpse?_

“I don’t like where this is going,” the Persona hastily turned the pages again, noticing that there had been no specific successes in the list and stopping by the February entries.

“February 27, after complete immersion into compound JKR-6660, the subject showed signs of subtle movements. Physical attributes had shown severe changes, including but not limited to: skin color discoloration, change of eye color, permanently upturned lips…”

And Robin stopped altogether, his form tensing as he pieced the puzzle pieces together. He could make a rough guess of what JKR compounds were. _Of course_ Falcone would put interest in this atrocity; he and Batman had long suspected that the Falcone had a degree of knowledge about Persona and resorted to its power in order to further their ambition, and these pieces of evidence only served to prove their supposition—

“ _Robin,_ ” Jay's voice was a quiet yet powerful plea, dispersing the Persona’s train of thoughts and dragging him back to the present, “ _What did they do to my mom?_ ”

Robin could only sigh wearily and pinch the bridge of his nose. How could he answer this _recurring_ simple question nicely without suffering the emotional outbursts that entailed?

He wouldn’t; the Persona knew that he just had to bear with it—just like how he did when Jason faced any terrible day.

“They want to undo Joker's banishment and bind the Persona unto your mother's corpse,” the Persona quietly answered, sensing the build-up distress of his own vessel blending in with the screams of children. There was no turning back now because Robin was not going to deny his vessel the _horrifying_ truth.

“They want to make her his vessel.”

* * *

**[those]**

Everybody in the base (Personas included, _Robin_ excluded) was in favor of leaving Jason behind for the tonight's job.

They were supposed to intercept one of Falcone’s delivery truck harboring the vessel of Joker— _the body of Jason’s mother_ —and bring it back to the base. Batman was the first to point out that the situation might render Jason a dangerous liability to the whole operation. The teen immediately yanked Robin's control over his body (he had been practicing since his accidental force-takeover, much to the Persona’s chagrin), ignoring the latter's mental yelp of surprise, and declined furiously.

To say that everybody in the room was _surprised_ by the drastic change was a _major_ _understatement_.

(In retrospect, neither Jason nor Robin had disclosed their situation to anyone.)

Batman opened his mouth as if he wanted to admonish both of them for this behavior, but he stopped altogether, lips settling into a scowl. Not long after, he was gone in a wisp of black mist, replaced by a verily distraught _Bruce Wayne_. Jason still kept his defiant gaze level, though the tension around his shoulders abated a bit.

“Jay— _Son_ ,” Bruce started, his voice a touch too soft even when there was steel in his eyes, “I know that you want them to pay for the desecration they have caused. But for this particular case, I want you to stay here and trust us to do what needs to be done.”

For a moment, the teen looked as if he was about to punch the man square in the face, his hands already clenched tight for an uppercut. But Robin, even after being forcefully pushed to the back of his mind—even when he was no longer in control of his own _form_ —still tried to smoothen the sinews around Jason's fingers, still tried to console the teen to let go of that _anger_.

Jason bit his lips, yielding to that silent coaxing, and breathed. The dissent was still there as he cocked his head heatedly at his guardian, “if it were _Martha_ or _Thomas_ , you would have gone no matter what.”

Bruce stiffened subtly, but not subtly enough that Jason picked up on Bruce's momentary weakness and relentlessly followed through.

“You cannot deny me this right, _Bruce_. You _will_ not.” Jason carried on, vehemence lacing his every word. He could feel that Robin did not approve his words if the scathing look directed at him an indication, but Jason couldn't care less. He needed to do this, needed for Bruce to see that Jason required _closure_.

For a moment, Bruce looked as if he wanted to yield. Then his gaze landed on Nightwing, standing just at the edge of the room and looking too tense for a proper Wish, before it went back to Jason again. Something changed then, Jason thought, because he could no longer see the doubt in his guardian’s eyes, the remains of hurt and steel solidifying into resolution—a decision.

“If it risks you to the Curse, Jason?” Bruce’s voice was steel, his eyes filled with unwavering stubbornness as they slowly disappeared behind Batman’s cowl, “I _will_.”

* * *

**[who fail]**

Robin once said that sometimes Batman’s mission would supersede his own. Jason had not understood that until the moment when the Dark Knight stared at him—at the presence by the back of his mind—and commanded to stay back. Jason stiffened under the weight of those words, a part of him almost wanting to do as what the Batman ordered.

Keyword being _almost_ ; Robin might answer to the Dark Knight, but _Jason_ had no such allegiance.

So when he was sure that both Batman and Nightwing were on their way, Jason prepared some meager equipment for patrol (he knew stashing some things could be good for rainy days, like now) and gathered the research notes which they retrieved from Falcone’s abandoned warehouse. He did not forget to stash several throwing knives, a tactical boot knife, a rope, and a gait.

Overkill? Jason certainly did not believe so, because, considering how he was preparing under the dreadful disapproving glare of Robin’s, the teen was very sure that the Persona had no intention to help him in his personal crusade.

“ _What are you doing?_ ” Robin hissed, “ _you can’t go out now! I won’t be able to protect you if things go downhill!”_

Jason perked cocked his head, his blue eyes gazing intensely at his own reflection in the mirror. There was no sign of Robin’s handiwork—no swath of green-and-red leather, no domino mask covering his face, no useless cape—and some part of Jason was relieved; it meant that he could do this on his own terms, with his own power.

“Chill, Robin.” he muttered, checking the backpack for one last time before slinging it to his back, “Nothing will go wrong. We’ll be back before Alfred even _notices_.”

Jason considered his exits: descending out of his room via the window or through the front door. He was tempted to use the front door but decided against it; while he knew that it was late enough for Alfred to retire for the day, the Briton could still be roaming around the corridors if only to make sure Jason stay.

The teen eyed the window of his room and _moved out._

He did not immediately launch away, choosing to sneak into the garage (he had a spare key to get inside, knowing this occasion would happen anyway) and wisely picking Dick’s black Ducati. Jason deftly hotwired his getaway motorcycle, secretly smiling as Robin watched in awe in spite of their situation, and hopped on as soon as he could get it running.

The drive to Gotham was uneventful and _disconcerting_. Jason was used to the thrum of Robin’s calls—pleas for help, wishes for happiness, and bouts of mirthful laughter—that the absence of them only stretched the uncomfortable silence at the back of his mind. Apparently, Robin was miffed enough to invoke the silent treatment (the Persona certainly had never done _that_ before), quietly brooding too much like a certain Dark Knight.

Considering the fire tinting the sky orange several kilometers away, that certain Dark Knight might as well be playing damage control at the moment, instead of chasing a well-meaning delivery truck.

“What the hell?” Jason grunted, quickly stopping at the gathering crowd just right at the roadblock. He was about to climb down his ride when he mentally heard Robin’s groan, as if the Persona was in pain, followed by a burst of screams and pleas at the edge of his hearing—a burst so powerful that Jason could not help but throw up what meager meal he had for the night.

Good thing it landed on the pavement, not at the Ducati (Jason was sure that Dick would kill him, drag him back from hell, and then kill him once more for such offense).

“What the actual _fuck_?” Jason wheezed, breathing a little bit better when the screamings retracted, “Robin, you okay?”

The Persona moaned and Jason could literally taste the _pain of hundreds of tortured children just around the fucking corner_.

“ _Get us out of here_!”

Jason complied mutely, ignoring the dull headache at the front of his head—Robin’s effect, he suspected, considering how the Persona was quickly under just as soon as he shouted the order—and wondered _what the hell just happened_. He was in panic— _no, he could not afford to be in a panic at this moment_. The teen proceeded to breathe—the first technique that Bruce taught him when he accepted the gig—and tried to reorganize his thoughts: something was very wrong with Robin, the outburst of wishes, the whole fire incident he had no idea about, and their supposed destination.

He would start with getting to their final destination first.

The teen headed for Arkham Asylum, where the original vessel containing the _Curse_ resided. Jason swore that the wind picked up as their destination crept closer into view, _pushing him to drive faster_. By the time he arrived at the gate, the words ‘ARKHAM ASYLUM FOR THE CRIMINALLY INSANE’ promising the dangers of humanity’s worst psyche, Jason felt Robin’s awareness faintly, to his relief.

His relief was short-lived, however, as another thought dawned on him; Batman declared him as a liability as soon as he started pursuing into this operation, but with how things were looking right now, Robin _was_ the liability.

Jason parked the motorcycle in the bushes, somewhere inconspicuous but accessible enough for him to get away later, and climbed down. Next order of business: he had to know what was wrong with the Persona and _what the hell were those screams_.

His attention was firmly directed to Robin, as he demanded, “What the hell was _that_?”

He could feel the Persona bristle, bringing up his shield as though _Jason was the enemy_ , but then groan in defeat.

“ _It was the consequence of your action,_ ” Robin quietly supplied, “ _Jay, you must understand that I_ have to _obey Batman. If he said that I had to stand by around the Manor, I_ must. _Why do you think I had to let go of Dick when he disobeyed Batman’s direct order_?”

Jason frowned. He never actually knew the circumstances behind Dick’s fallout with Bruce, though he had always assumed that it was Dick who voluntarily released the Robin, not the other way round. If what the Persona said was true, then... “Why?”

“ _Because the backlash of working against that order would make my vessel_ unhinged _,_ ” Robin muttered as if it was a fact of life that Jason failed to learn. “ _I have been trying to shield that from you ever since we left the Manor, but the fire incident… There were children there, Jay, who wished for_ us _to save_ them _but I cannot. Because Batman ordered me to_ stay. _The contradictory directives would literally drive you crazy.”_

Jason was expecting more venom lacing the Persona’s words, instead of this reproachful tone. He was not ready to comment, of course, since he sensed that Robin was not done. “ _I will not risk your mental stability, despite your counterproductive action, and therefore I cannot help you. I’ve been fighting against my own directive to keep you_ sane.”

And then there was it, the venom that was supposed to be directed to a certain Dark Knight rather than to Jason, or so he believed. That, and a sheer amount of frustration bleeding out of Robin, stunning Jason at his place.

He recalled that Robin’s directive was to protect children—Jason included. But Batman’s orders could sometimes temporarily override that directive. Jason was hurting Robin, making him confused with what he ought to do.

But then he remembered his mom, the days when she was sober and not, and the fact that she was the only family he had left until her death. It made his fist clench, his glare driven; it made him angry, the fury burning under his skin strong but righteous at the same time.

Robin might have picked up some of his thoughts, because the Persona only smiled forlornly, “ _I know, Jason. I know.”_

“Then why are you still around?!” he growled. The Persona _did_ move on from Dick… and yet, here Robin was, quietly trying to balance between the white and black of the rules, “Why didn’t you just _leave_?!”

Because it would be _so much easier for Robin to move on,_ wouldn’t it?

For the first time since their departure, Jason could barely feel the slight touch of his Persona on his knuckles—the one gesture that always soothed the teen whenever his anger got the better of him. There were whispers of children’s please being hurled at his psyche as Robin did so, though not as strong as the previous outburst. At least Jason was not retching, so that should be a good.

Both the lingering press and the subtle pleas were gone soon after, ever the thoughtful entity Robin was, as the Persona whispered fondly, “ _because you Wished for me to stay, that night when Catherine Todd died._ ”

(He remembered the world tilting that night, his vision blackening, his anger boiling.

He remembered the _very first time_ he heard the lilt of joy despite his anguish, soothing and comforting—

—It was _Robin_.)

Jason’s breath hitched; when he mentally turned to Robin, he could only sense joy… and pride.

“ _I highly value your wish,_ Jay _, and I want to honor it._ ”

* * *

**[to protect]**

Arkham Asylum was definitely the creepiest place ever built in Gotham; such was Jason’s thought when he looked around within the asylum walls, looking too similar to a prison rather than a psychiatric facility.

There was no sign of Batman or Nightwing around, leading him to believe that they were still working on the fire incident. He supposed emergency could arise in the most shitty situation; it was all a matter of prioritization.

Jason mirthlessly chuckled; between the corpse of his mother and hundreds of innocents lives trapped under fiery rubbles—the lives that he and Robin had to turn their face away, the lives that were _on them now_ —it was logical for Batman and Nightwing to choose the latter.

“He shouldn’t have barred us in the first place,” Jason muttered as he slipped into the loading area. There was no one around saved for the guard in the security room, though he noticed the truck containing his mother.

“ _His decision was not unfounded,_ ” Robin quietly responded, _again_ pondering on what he needed to say, and settled for another sigh. Honestly, Jason felt bad to be the cause of those sighs these days. “ _Have you heard about Batgirl?_ ”

Jason moved to check the inside of the truck and found nothing, except for traces of white powder. He cursed under his breath and quietly jumped out of the truck box. “I’ve seen her in action, once or twice. Never saw her again since the tragedy of [Amusement Mile](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/de/26/1c/de261c0223646cb0d916cda745954218.jpg).”

“ _That’s because she was banished there,_ ” Robin continued, the emptiness in the Persona’s voice shook Jason so much that he physically froze, “ _It was the Curse. It corrupts people, Jay, more fervently with vessels because of their extraordinary connection with Personas. The Joker caught her vessel off-guard and picked Batgirl apart, rendering her definition so askew that Batman decided to banish her, lest she corrupts anyone else.”_

Jason frowned deeply, then exclaimed, “Hold up! the _Batman banished her_?”

The Persona sitting at the back of his mind nodded in acknowledgment, a hint of pensiveness gracing his countenance.

 _“It was… not particularly a Banishment. When you banish a Persona, you banish it with the antithesis of his or her idea. Batman banished her with hopeful things… beautiful, powerful things. It was meant to empower and, hopefully, heal,”_ Robin withheld his breath, as though remembering them was a straining experience, _“He hoped to return Batgirl back, even if it would take years.”_

Jason sighed; he was just grateful that there was some sort of reconciliation there, at least—a hope for recovery. “What happened to her vessel?”

 **“** Oracle _claimed her_ ,” the Persona replied, his lament dissolving in that moment, replaced by _hope_ , “ _or maybe it was the other way around. Barbara is a strong woman, after all._ ”

Jason recounted his first time meeting with the Commissioner's daughter, the woman with red hair assessing his form so tactically that he wondered if she had picked him apart, found the things she needed, and put him back together again—all of them in a single glance. He remembered how the meeting lasted less than five minutes, the woman claiming that she already knew what she needed. Only later was he informed that Barbara Gordon _was_ also the Persona vessel of Oracle, specializing in information gathering and particularly adept in the realm of people’s mindscape.

Or, in layman’s term: Oracle specialized in hacking people’s mind and emotion with the purpose of information gathering. That time when she glanced at him? It wall all Oracle, silently wringing him out as she gathered whatever information she needed. _With a single freaking glance_.

So yes, Jason wholeheartedly agree with Robin’s claim about Barbara Gordon being a _badass_ woman—

There were a rustle and a groan coming from the security room.

Jason quickly rolled under the truck and held his breath, frantically wishing hard that no one heard his steps while he was looking around. He could hear Robin snickering somewhere in his head, something about a childish wish and a game of tag; the irony was not lost in Jason. He mentally counted, if only to calm himself down, stopping only when he heard the security person inside the room gasping, and then _laughing_.

Had it been a natural laughter, Jason would have stayed still under the bus and remained silence. But then the man’s laughter shrilled, as if he tried to scream but failing. The mere sound of it made Robin flinch; that was the only cue Jason needed to get out of his hiding spot and checked what was going on.

As soon as he crawled out from under the truck, Jason immediately headed to the security box, only to see the slumped form of the guard, face-turned at Jason’s direction. Blood was flowing out of the guard’s tear ducts, his lips were set upturned like a _smile_ , and the shade of his skin had turned cream-white. It was like looking at a hastily makeuped clown… only with blood.

“Fuck _,_ ” Jason breathed as he dashed towards the door. But before he could even open it, his world literally tilted again—a sensation similar to what he experienced the first time Robin took over. Jason had to kneel on his feet, the voice of hundreds of children suddenly attacking his head. Amidst the chaos, he could feel Robin's grip on his shoulder, the kevlar armor manifesting if only to hold him steady—or to stop him from moving at all.

Well, if that was what Robin wanted—to lock Jason in place—then the _little shit_ won; Jason was so discombobulated that he could not even walk straight, the unanswered calls of children still echoing within his skull. “What the _fucking_ hell, _Robin_?!”

“ _Don’t go inside, Jay,_ ” Robin’s voice was small and desperate, as though he knew that something bad would happen the moment Jason opened the goddamn door. There was another press on his palm, sending more _fucking pleas into his head_ and internally bashing his inside _._ “ _I fear it's starting already. You have to find your mother.”_

Jason opted to comply with Robin’s request if only to wither out the chaos in his head. As soon as Robin’s presence in his head toned down, though, the chaos dispersed, the landscape of his mind so eerily empty that Jason shivered.

“Robin?” Jason asked tentatively.

No one called back.

* * *

**[their innocence]**

There was no sign of Robin’s activity at the back of his mind.

However, Jason could still feel the weak thrum of the Persona’s presence—subdued, but _there_ —so Jason decided to stick with what they needed to do. He would nudge the Persona later when everything had been put in order. So the teen went inside the building, part of him wondering if the authority would recognize his break-in. Instead, Jason found the building to be sparsely populated… excluding the unconscious bodies of nurses, doctors, and guards alike, strewn along the corridor.

(Jason was sure that some of them were not breathing any longer, judging by the blood pooling around them. Some others were still twitching, a ghost of mad laughter reverberating in the eerie corridor. He could feel his stomach curling on itself, trying to hurl out his inside. The teen was just glad that he no longer had anything to throw up.)

The teen decided to follow the trail of bodies, hoping that it would take him somewhere. It took him to the end of the corridor, right in front of the heavy door; he could make out the ‘CHRONIC BLOCK’ sign plastered at the top casing. Jason quickly kicked the door open, pulling out his throwing knives just in case, and went in.

He was met with a bright, empty hall. There were two figures at across the hall, one lying on the floor while the other standing just beside _it_.

The body lying on the floor was his mother’s body. Jason decided to stride towards the woman’s direction—a blond woman wearing attires befitting a psychiatrist.

“Don’t move!” Jason barked, a readily-thrown knife on his right hand, three more safely gripped on his left. The suspicious woman flinched at first, but whatever tension holding her form quickly dissipated when her gaze landed on him. He could see recognition in that look, which only urged him to keep his guard up. “Move away from her, slowly, _or else_.”

She snickered instead, and Jason threw one right in front of her right foot, making the blond woman yelp in surprise. He was losing his patience _fast_.

“I won’t miss next time. Now move, _woman_ ,” he said, instilling as much distaste into his words as he could. The woman smiled wickedly, stepping back from the body with her hands in the air. Her move screamed mockery—a bait—but Jason ignored the stewing rage under his skin; he had fucking _priorities_.

“D’aw, that’s not how you treat a lady, little Robin,” she exclaimed and Jason, much to his displeasure later, _twitched_ at that comment. The blond caught his surprise, her lips twisting viciously, “why so surprised, birdie? _Everyone_ knows about the _replacement_. It was soooo easy to see the difference between the better one and the cheap _knock-off_.”

He was already launching two of his three knives at her, but the blond only twirled around, avoiding each knife as they stabbed the innocent wall. There was a shadow, flickering at the edge of her move, blending with something red and black. Jason stilled; he was not expecting a fight with a _fucking vessel_ , at least _not without Robin_.

He instinctively took out the boot dagger on his right and launched at the woman. Better to start the fight then getting caught in whatever mind game she was planning. The woman only laughed shrilly as she avoided his blow, again and _again_ , never failing to crawl under his skin.

He never got to anticipate a heavy slam from his right side, sending him crashing against the hall wall.

Everything _hurt_.

Jason could make out the woman’s white attire, already disappearing behind her red-and-black suit, and the wooden mallet which she used to send him crashing. He remembered hearing the sound of cackles blending together with fear, the comforting press of Robin all over his body, as he drowned into unconsciousness.

 

 

 

For the longest time, he was just drifting.

“ _Jay_.”

“...five more minutes, Alf…”

He could feel someone ruffling his hair, could imagine the sadness latched into that gesture, “ _you have to wake up, Jay. I need you_.”

There was something in the boy’s words (he was sure it was a _boy_ ) that prompted Jason to do as he bid. So Jason tried his best to open his eyes, blue eyes blearily registering the sight before him. It was a bright hall, with two persons standing across him. For some reasons, one of them had a face like his mother… though the twisted smile made her face almost unrecognizable. The other one wore a suit… peppered with harlequin motive of red and black. She looked like a jester with giant wooden mallet…

The scene before him seemed familiar, but he couldn’t find in himself _why_.

They seemed to notice that he was back to the realm of the living because both of them quickly approached his hunched form. His mother was tilting his head with a crowbar ( _why are you doing this_ ), as if examining his condition. But in the end, Catherine lifted it and hit his left side. He remembered howling in pain as _his mother_ continued to deliver the blow again and _again_.

Jason also remembered sobbing in pain.

“I think we broke him, Mister Jay,” the other woman said, in-between his pain-induced delirium. “You want something more, Mister Jay? Oh, Harley can fix that!”

There were footsteps as the harlequin-dressed woman launched away and then returned with a package in hand. Jason managed to lift his head a little in order to get a better view, his thoughts slowly growing clearer as he noticed the red, blinking timer attached to that package.

A bomb, only two minutes away from blowing up.

Jason wanted to throw up again.

He was glad that his adrenaline kicked in once again, making his mind listed what was happening to  _everything_ : he was tied up on the ground, his body was hurting _everywhere_ (he might even have multiple broken ribs and a definite concussion), there was no Robin to help him (stupid Batman’s order), his mother's body was hosting the _Joker_ (though it seemed that she lacked speaking skills; Jason was not sure), the woman calling herself Harley was determined in carrying what sick plan the Curse had for him, and then a bomb waiting to go off.

 _Is this it? Is this how he ends? As a_ failure _?_

There was a hum at the edge of his hearing, sounding much like a lullaby but laced with a tumultuous pent-up rage; it was prepared to crash on and consume him _whole_. Along with it, he could feel Robin… and _something else_.

“ _I—_ ” Robin sounded so broken in his speech, even when he was not talking to Jason ( _who was he talking to, again?_ ). There was a hitched breath, an almost sob, as the little Persona spoke continued, “ _I can’t do what you ask. It is against my directives—both of my directives._ ”

There were mutterings that were not his Persona’s, nor his own. Robin whimpered, and Jason wanted so badly to comfort the kid had it not for the change in the Persona’s stance. Robin noticed him, his presence suddenly inching near—both a comfort and pain.

(He really wanted to curse Batman for turning Robin into such a _contradictory little shit—_ even when he himself was also to blame.)

“ _Jay_.”

Jason remembered how the gentlest press of Robin’s presence would split his head, recalled how he hurled his meager dinner to the pavement when the Persona was unable to shield him from the despairing screams of children as they burned to their death, recollected how the subtlest touch sent him paralyzed.

At this point, even the barest word which Robin uttered made his head hurt.

( _“—the backlash of working against that order would make my vessel_ **unhinged**.”)

If Robin were to materialize now, Jason knew that he would _break_.

Cather— _Joker_ moved towards him, one hand holding the bomb close, and put the offending item next to his face. The timer had not started until the Curse harshly pushed the button that triggered the countdown. Harley’s laughter filled the room, cut shortly only when she caught what the Curse silently ordered (“ _Aaaaaw, but I want to watch the fireworks with you, Mister Jay! …You need me to hold Batsy off for you? Well, since you ask nicely~”_ ). The woman quickly made her way out, leaving him, the Curse, and the one-half-minute-away-to-blow bomb alone.

Between death and madness?

“Do it, Rob.”

He would choose madness anytime.

(Jason would come to regret this choice much later.)

* * *

**[and]**

There was no Jason Todd.

There was, however, the unanswered collective wishes of children. It had no end, much like how it had no beginning; it simply was, walking alongside humanity’s desire to be happy and sad, to hope and despair, to save and kill. It was the inverse of hopeful, beautiful things, because unanswered Wishes, more often than not, bred Curses.

Among them was a wish to banish the Curse away, shining so brightly as if it would be answered. Then it flickered, just like how wishes were forgotten, before it started to fade away like a dying star.

But there was something else—something born and bred from the depths of Gotham, moving closer towards it. It was a Wish yet a Curse, and it was interested in this fading plea.

So it swooped down as if the dying light was a fair game for the Contradiction.

It swooped down and gave Jason Todd a reason _to be_ , once more.

* * *

**[their happiness]**

He did not know who he was. All he knew was that he was too cold, too hurting to move, too strained, too constricted, too tired—

—there was something on his right hand, a photo of a woman with pretty ginger hair and beautiful blue eyes. He had no idea who that woman was, but he could tell that something evil had been bound to the photograph. Something much like ( _but unlike_ ) the itches at the back of his mind.

 _Itches_ , because he was sure there were _two of them_. The little one kept saying _‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry_ ’ while the bigger one… he was mentally standing by the little one, patiently waiting for something to happen.

His limbs were heavy, but he turned anyway (more like that the _clothing_ wore forced him to turn) in such way so that he could lay by his left side.

(It hurt—broken-ribs-and-damaged-lung _hurt_.)

He tried to focus his eyes, through the broken lenses of the stupid domino mask, and saw a box— _a bomb_ —three seconds away from blowing up.

A broken sob that was not his, a hug that felt too crushing for his body, “ _I am sorry, Jay. I am so sorry._ ”

Ah. Right. He remembered. He was Jason T—

* * *

**[*]**

He was Red Hood.

His vessel died once when the idiot was galavanting around Gotham with that _careless_ Persona. But through many twists of fate, the idiot lived again, courtesy of one woman named Talia Al-Ghul. While the woman was not a vessel (perhaps _not yet_ ), per say, but she liked to dabble in many things— _Jungian things._

Among her dabbles was  _the Pit_.

Oh boy, he knew about _the Pit_ , alright.

She immersed him into one, restoring life into those dead blue eyes. That was how Red Hood managed to locate the boy in the first place; when the boy returned to life, the boy’s carcass of a wish was brought back too, and Red Hood could not help but gyrate towards it.

(Because Jason Todd belonged to him.)

The Persona witnessed the days following the boy’s resurrection, how he was unresponsive to outside impulses, at first. It did not mean that his brain was not working; Red Hood could sense jumbled thoughts, strong emotions, unintelligible internal mutterings. Perhaps the boy was recalling echoes of forgotten wishes. Perhaps he heard the Curses of Gothamites that Red Hood brought along with his second arrival.

It did not matter.

As long as Jason Todd lived, even battered and broken, Red Hood would stay with him. Jason Wished him not to leave the boy behind after all—

—just as much as he Cursed the ones who broke him. Who violated him. Who made him the way he was.

Red Hood was there to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you I may have taken too many liberties--in concepts, world-building, etc.
> 
> I once thought to make the whole Jason-and-Joker thing exclusively between the two of them, but decided to bring Harley into the fray as well. The Joker was rendered incapacitated, so it's only natural that he needs the help of other Persona. In this case, I threw in Harley Quinn. I have never explicitly stated if the woman housing that Persona was Harleen Quinzel, but you're free to imagine :') ~~Hint: she could have been Sheila Heywood~~
> 
> The whole origin story mirrored the 'Death in the Family' arch, though I generally drew the new 52 version. As stretching as the story in issue #0 RHATO was, I can't think of how to cause Jason to get out of Gotham and galavant to Ethiopia, of all things (okay, so the n52 version does that too, you get what I mean?).
> 
> Also there was a major parallel to 'the Killing Joke'. In this one, it happens before Jason assumed Robin. Also Robin was kinda there when shit hit the fan then, explaining why he was skittish around the matter.
> 
> And yes, I may have unintentionally lain down the groundwork to write more about Barbara Gordon. ~~And then Cassandra Cain. And maybe Stephanie later on. Oh God what have I done.~~

**Author's Note:**

> You can contact me via tumblr @ rantoffireflies.tumblr.com


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